


Father Figures

by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (2011)
Genre: Families of Choice, Gen, I mean the A+ parenting tag sarcastically, Odin's A+ Parenting, although I'm pretty sure everyone means that tag sarcastically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 16:50:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8217709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: Heimdall would never have brought a Jotunn child into Asgard to be raised as his own son, but if he had, he would have done a far better job of it than the Allfather. Or the one where Heimdall becomes Loki's substitute father figure in the face of Odin's A+ parenting.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know where this one came from, seriously.

** Father Figures **

It started, Heimdall supposed, when a small black-haired boy crept into the Brifrost chamber, trying to remain unseen. Heimdall eyed him for a moment, then spoke. 

“Loki.”

Loki tripped slightly and turned to face Heimdall, a practiced smile already appearing on his face, although Loki was too young to properly hide the anxiety that lay beneath it. Loki was a tricky child, prone to getting into trouble of the sort that would not be overlooked, even if it was not always at his own instigation, and Heimdall wondered what the boy was up to.

“Why are you here?” Heimdall asked. Loki opened his mouth, a lie already forming on his lips, but Heimdall gave him a stern look that dared Loki to use whatever lie was forming. A moment later Loki’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Thor and his friends said they’d let me play with them if I could use the Bifrost without your noticing,” he admitted, voice defiant, and braced himself – for what, Heimdall was not entirely sure. 

“I see,” he said, and nothing else.

Astonishment filled Loki’s face.

“You _believe_ me?” the child blurted, his tone incredulous.

Heimdall frowned down at the boy, wondering at his surprise.

“You know that I watch over Asgard, and that my gaze sees far beyond what is directly in my sight,” he reminded Loki. “I am well aware that your brother and his friends send you into trouble for their own amusement. Why are you so surprised?”

“Because no one ever believes me!” Loki exclaimed, looking up at Heimdall with an expression somewhere between hope and wonder. “I tell them that Thor dared me to do it, and they tell me not to tell such lies!”

Heimdall’s frown deepened. He was well-aware that Thor was the golden child of Asgard, the tall, athletic prince looked upon far more favourably than his smaller, more scholarly brother. But surely the favouritism did not extend so far that people overlooked the obvious truth in Loki’s words?

“What does your father say?” Heimdall asked, and Loki slumped again.

“He says that I must learn not to get into so much trouble.” Loki’s voice was forlorn.

“He is right,” said Heimdall, and Loki hunched in on himself, looking down at his boots. “But Prince Thor must also learn not to send others into trouble in his stead.”

Loki looked up at that.

“But Father never says so! He only ruffles Thor’s hair and tells him he is getting big and strong.” There was obvious jealousy in Loki’s voice, but beneath it was an undertone of wistfulness, as though Loki had accepted that he would never receive such affection from Odin.

Had it been possible for Heimdall to frown even more deeply, he would have done so. Was Odin himself part of the reason for Loki’s disfavour with the rest of Asgard? Where the King led, others would follow, and if Odin himself ignored the mischief of one child, but punished it in the other…

“I cannot disagree with my King,” he said, and saw Loki look at him sharply, attention caught by Heimdall’s phrasing, as Heimdall had hoped it would be. “But my advice to you would be to stop agreeing to Thor’s attempts to get you into trouble.”

“But then Thor and his friends won’t play with me,” Loki protested. “And no one else at court is the right age – they all say they’re too old to play with babies, or else they’re babies themselves.”

Heimdall understood Loki’s difficulty all too well. He had been in much the same position as a child, being either too old or too young to get along with the other children. Fortunately, one of the warriors at court had held a soft spot for him, and had taken to teaching him training exercises. As an adult, Heimdall still held great affection for Tyr as a result of the other man’s kindness towards him, and he often visited the aging warrior to ensure that he was still in good health.

Heimdall looked down at Loki, and although he’d never had any great fondness for the child, felt a stirring of fellow-feeling.

“I was in a similar position at your age,” he said, ignoring Loki’s wide eyes at the admission. “If Prince Thor and his friends refuse to play with you, spend your time training. It will make you a better warrior.”

“But Thor’s always better than me,” Loki grumbled. “What is the point?”

“Perhaps if you trained more often than he did, Prince Thor’s skill would no longer be superior to your own,” Heimdall pointed out mildly, and saw Loki consider that. “If you do not feel that you can surpass him directly, find other methods of combat in which Prince Thor does not excel.”

“Oh,” said Loki softly. He looked up at Heimdall with a wide smile – an honest one, this time. Heimdall was surprised by how endearing the expression was, compared to the false smiles the child so often wore. “Thank you, Heimdall,” Loki said, with a small bow. “Your words have given me much to think about.”

As Heimdall watched Loki leave the Bifrost chamber, he stayed silent, and did not confess that Loki’s words had done the same for him.

* * *

After that, Heimdall watched Loki’s interactions with the rest of Asgard more closely.

Heimdall soon came to the conclusion that while he himself would never have brought a Jotunn child into Asgard to be raised as his own son, if he had, he would have done a far better job of it than the Allfather.

Odin favoured Thor, thoughtlessly and constantly. Where Thor could do no wrong in his father’s eyes, Loki was always in trouble for every infraction. Odin praised Thor’s prowess in the training grounds, his easy friendship with the other children their age – while pointing out to Loki his brother’s superiority in every aspect, chiding him for not matching Thor’s ability with a sword, or saying to him that a prince of Asgard must learn to interact well with others. Loki soaked up Odin’s every word, and did his best to do as his father wanted. The problem was that as far as Heimdall could tell, what Odin wanted was another Thor, and Loki could never succeed in such an aim.

It left an uneasy feeling in the pit of Heimdall’s stomach. He had always viewed Odin as wise and knowledgeable, yet here he was, so obviously blind to the unhealthy relationship he was encouraging between his sons, and the damage he was doing to the core of Loki’s sense of self. It did not take a great mind to perceive that Loki thought of himself as inferior to Thor in every way that mattered, and that even as he adored his elder brother, he was increasingly jealous of him. 

No, Heimdall never would have taken a Jotunn child to raise, but if he had, he would have had the decency to raise the child as his own in every way, rather than as an unfitting substitute for the real one. Odin treated Thor as though he was free of every fault, while behaving as though Loki was nothing but faults, and Heimdall knew that such a state of affairs was good for neither child. A sliver of pity entered his heart as he observed over and over, Loki trying to earn others’ approval, most especially that of Odin, only to be let down at every turn.

So it was that when the boy crept into the Bifrost chamber, Heimdall did not immediately tell him to leave.

“Loki,” he said, and the child smiled hesitantly at him.

“Hello, Heimdall,” he said, with a polite bow. “How is your day?”

Heimdall looked at Loki in some surprise, wondering what lay behind the question. But the boy had been polite, and it was not against Heimdall’s duties to speak to anyone while guarding the Bifrost.

“Tolerable,” Heimdall said at last. “My day has been much the same as any other, and hopefully such a state shall continue.” 

Any variation in his routine would likely come from an attack on Asgard, which was not the sort of interesting event Heimdall looked for.

Loki grinned, and pulled out a dagger that looked remarkably like one of the Queen’s.

“Mother has been teaching me to use her daggers,” he proclaimed, turning the knife over in his hands and holding it out for Heimdall to see it better. “She says that I have an aptitude for it.”

This was not news to Heimdall. He had occasionally seen Frigga teaching her younger son knife-fighting and magic, in an attempt to give him skills of his own to be proud of. Frigga was perhaps the only person at court who seemed to treat Loki as he deserved – as a sometimes-troublesome, intelligent child of great potential. Loki soaked up her attention like a sponge, but still he yearned for Odin’s approval.

“So I have seen,” Heimdall replied. Loki beamed, and Heimdall did not have the heart to tell him that knife-fighting and magic were usually seen as the domain of noblewomen, not men, and that his skill would not win him any greater favour with the others at court. It was a great shame, thought Heimdall, that Odin could not see the possibilities present in Loki. Or perhaps he simply did not wish to – Loki’s intelligence and cunning both surpassed Thor’s after all. And Heimdall knew, now, that Odin would not allow for anyone to outshine his eldest son.

To Heimdall’s bemusement, Loki began telling him all about his sessions with the Queen, and what he’d been learning under her tutelage. He demonstrated his new skill in magic by summoning a green flame, which danced harmlessly across his palm. Heimdall was mildly impressed with the ease the boy showed. Such a spell was difficult for most Asgardians, who had little ability with magics of that kind, but here Loki was, showing off a spell he had managed, if he was to be believed, on the fifth attempt.

Heimdall was suddenly struck by a memory from long-ago, of the stories his grandmother had told him of the Jotunn: of the old days before several successive wars with the Jotunn had  led to the current great hostility towards them taking root in the hearts of the people of Asgard. In the old days, his grandmother had told him, some of the Frost Giants had become great sorcerers, their skill marvelled at by all the Nine Realms. It was said that they could change form as easily as others changed clothes, and that it was with their help that the great city at the centre of Asgard had been built, before war had torn both peoples apart. 

Heimdall’s mother had fussed at his grandmother to stop telling him such tales, and Heimdall had heard no more of the great Jotunn sorcerers of times gone by. But now, as he looked at Loki – Loki, a Frost Giant in Asgardian skin, who currently held a dancing, magical flame between his cupped hands – he wondered if perhaps there was more truth to his grandmother’s stories than he’d believed.

The thought brought with it a feeling of dark foreboding, as Heimdall remembered the look on Odin’s face the night he’d brought the squalling blue infant home against all reason, without offering any word of explanation to the few who knew he’d snatched the Jotunn child. Heimdall wondered if somehow Odin had known of the magic lurking beneath Loki’s skin, and sought to deprive Jotunheim of its next great sorcerer – a sorcerer who once grown could have restored their homeland to greatness, and perhaps even challenged Asgard’s dominion over the Nine Realms.

It would explain why Odin had raised the child as his own kin, a prince of Asgard, even though he seemed to lack feelings greater than mere fondness for the boy – and perhaps explained why Odin had raised no objection to Frigga teaching Loki what were traditionally regarded, on Asgard at least, as womanly arts, reserved for the female nobility. The subtle manipulation of the foundation of reality itself was a skill Frigga had been the first in Asgard to possess in a generation… 

…the first, in fact, since the enchantress Bestla, who had been wed to King Borr… and who had herself been part-Jotunn, although few dared to remind Asgard of that fact now. And yet Frigga, for all her skill, had not mastered even the simplest of spells until she had been considerably older than Loki was now.

“Heimdall, are you quite well?” Loki asked, peering up at him. “Only you have not spoken for some time.”

“I was merely marvelling at your skill, young prince,” said Heimdall, banishing his disturbing train of thought. It would be better to contemplate such a thing while in solitude, not while the young sorcerer in question was with him. 

“Are you sure?” Loki asked suspiciously. “You seemed distracted.”

“I was thinking of your mother the Queen’s own skill in magic,” Heimdall said. And then, because the child’s face was falling at the implicit comparison, and the boy received such little praise, Heimdall added, “I believe that she was several years older than you before mastering such a spell.”

Loki’s eyes widened.

“Truly?” he asked, and received a nod in response. He broke into a wide smile. “Then I shall make it my aim to become the greatest sorcerer in all the realms, and surpass even Mother!” He looked suddenly uncertain. “At least, if she does not mind.”

“I think she would be proud to have the greatest sorcerer in all the realms for a son,” Heimdall said, amused by Loki’s moment of uncharacteristic boasting, although he did not let it show.

Loki looked reassured.

“Then I shall go and practice immediately,” the boy declared. “Thank you, Heimdall,” he added, before striding from the room with all the newfound confidence of someone who has just been told for the first time that they are _good_ at something.

Heimdall watched him go.

Loki, he thought, would bear careful watching.

* * *

To Heimdall’s surprise, Loki kept coming back after that.

When he thought about it, he supposed it made sense: he was not one of those who made it clear to Loki that they thought him the lesser prince – a category very few of the people of Asgard fit into, Heimdall knew – and he had not been impatient with the boy, as some were with children his age. Nonetheless, Heimdall found the situation a little confounding: he was a man of few words, and did not possess a lively disposition; most children found him intimidating. Yet Loki seemed to take Heimdall’s long, impassive silences as invitation for him to speak all the more, sharing whatever thoughts entered his lively mind, and showed no fear of Heimdall save for a dislike of his displeasure.

Heimdall found that he didn’t mind the young prince’s company. Guarding the Bifrost chamber was a solitary, somewhat tedious duty, and while Heimdall did not mind being alone but for his own thoughts, it was not unpleasant to have someone else there, brightening up his otherwise uneventful days. Loki was not a difficult child, as some children were difficult; his tendency to get into trouble came from his intelligence and his desire to impress others, not from any natural inclination towards causing misfortune. Oh, he could be vengeful towards those who ahd earned his ire, but for the most part he was a peaceable child who shied away from conflict, unlike his aggressive brother. To be quite honest, Heimdall preferred the former to the latter, but kept his true opinion of both princes quiet.

“Our combat tutor – well, I say _our_ tutor, but in truth he is more Thor’s tutor than mine – has taught Thor a new move with his sword, and refuses to teach me the countermove,” Loki complained, one afternoon. 

Heimdall peered at him.

“Show me the move.” 

Looking a little surprised, Loki did so, grasping an imaginary sword.

“Thor does this, and then I counter with that move, and then Thor goes like _this_ ,” and Loki demonstrated the move.

“Hmm.”

Heimdall deliberated for a moment. Technically it was the tutor’s job to teach Loki combat skills – but if he refused to show Loki even the most commonly-used countermove…

“Bring two training swords here.” Heimdall made his decision. “I will show you how to counter that move. It is not especially difficult, once you know the trick of it.”

Loki stared up at him, in equal parts surprise and gratitude, as the boy always did when shown a kindness. Heimdall was a seasoned warrior, but he was not made of stone, and Loki’s reaction left him feeling a little sad.

“I shall go and get them at once!” Loki said, and ran off in haste.

He returned fifteen minutes later, holding a couple of wooden training swords. Heimdall held out a hand, and Loki gave him one of the swords.

It was relatively light in weight, and too small for Heimdall’s hands, but he gripped the hilt of the wooden sword, and held it out.

“Attack me using the move that Thor uses,” Heimdall instructed. “Watch me carefully as I respond.”

Loki attacked using Thor’s new move, and Heimdall disarmed him with the countermove.

“Can you do that again, but more slowly?” Loki asked. 

They repeated the exercise until Loki had the countermove down pat.

“Thank you ever so much, Heimdall,” said Loki, his eyes alight – and before Heimdall could respond, the boy had flung the wooden training sword aside, and had wrapped his small arms around Heimdall’s middle.

Heimdall was too flabbergasted to move, or speak: but almost as soon as he’d initiated the hug Loki broke it, still smiling, and took the training sword from Heimdall’s lax grip before bending to pick up the sword he’d thrown aside a moment ago.

“Be sure to watch when I trounce Thor with the countermove!” Loki added, his expression bright, and before Heimdall could gather his wits, the boy was out the Bifrost chamber door, taking the training swords with him.

Heimdall stood there for a long time, staring into space, for once not looking at anything in particular. Then he turned his gaze back outwards, towards any potential threats to Asgard.

So that was how it was, then. 

Well. This was going to be difficult, wasn’t it?

* * *

Heimdall wasn’t really surprised when Odin paid him a visit, a few days later. The fact that Loki had been spending time with him on such a frequent basis was bound to come to Odin’s notice, sooner or later.

“Some interesting information has reached my ears,” Odin sad instead of a greeting. He fixed Heimdall with one shrewd eye. “I hear that my younger son has been spending a great deal of time here, these days.”

Heimdall didn’t give him an answer. Odin didn’t seem to expect one.

“He bested Thor in a match, yesterday afternoon,” Odin went on. “His tutor informed me that he had never taught Loki the countermove that my son used against his brother, and that he did not know where Loki learned it from.”

Heimdall stayed silent.

“It is not your place to teach my son, nor become his confidant,” said Odin. “You are not his tutor, nor his father.”

“You favour Thor.”

“Of course I favour Thor. He is the fruit of my loins, my firstborn son. That does not erase your transgression.”

Heimdall met Odin’s eyes steadily.

“Loki desires approval. I fear that if he does not find it within Asgard, he shall seek it elsewhere.”

It was as clear a warning as Heimdall cared to give, and he only hoped that it did not backfire and earn Loki even greater disfavour with Odin.

Odin ruminated on Heimdall’s words for a moment. Odin wasn’t a stupid man, despite his blind spot where Thor was concerned. Heimdall knew that if he understood how powerful Loki’s magic might turn out to be, then he knew how dangerous Loki could become.

“Fine,” said Odin at last, acknowledging the potential threat, even though it was clear that he was displeased. “Become a mentor to the boy. But it is _my_ will and _my_ command that he shall follow.”

Heimdall bowed his head.

“As my King commands.” He let no sign of his triumph or satisfaction show, only docile acceptance. Odin glared at him for a moment, before leaving.

Only when he was done did Heimdall allow himself to sigh.

Admittedly, he had become rather fond of the young prince, but this? This was so much more than Heimdall had ever volunteered for. 

He thought of Loki, and all his threatening potential, and only hoped that he could help the boy from becoming something even Odin might fear.

* * *

Time passed.

Loki grew from a small, skinny child into a tall and slender young man, whose wit was as sharp as his brother’s sword, his intelligence as keen as the eyes of Odin’s ravens. His skill with a staff was almost unparalleled, his ability to fight with daggers second only to the Queen herself. And his magic…

His magic was unlike anything seen in generations. Loki could disappear from one location and reappear in another, cloak himself from others’ sight, create illusory doubles of himself, take on the appearance of another… despite the contempt with which some greeting his various feats, Heimdall knew that Loki’s magical ability was formidable. And he was young, yet: he still had centuries, millennia even, to become an even greater sorcerer than he already was… great enough, perhaps, to rival the Jotunn sorcerers who had assisted in building Asgard’s golden city. There was no doubt in Heimdall’s mind, now, that Loki had benefited from his Jotunn heritage in that respect.

Yet Loki himself was oblivious to his own race, and all he knew of the Jotunn were the wild, untruthful tales that were told by those who had fought in the last war in the hope of sowing further discord between Asgard and Jotunheim, and further spread by those credulous fools who didn’t know any better than to believe them. Heimdall had once breached the topic of Loki’s true parentage with Odin, as obliquely and deferentially as he knew how. Odin had understood his meaning immediately, and forbidden Heimdall from ever mentioning Loki’s real nature to the young man.

“It is better if Loki thinks himself a true son of Asgard,” Odin had said.

“Yes, my King,” Heimdall had answered, and never told Odin that deep down, Loki already knew that to be a lie, even if he did not know the reason _why_.

As Thor’s coronation as Crown Prince approached, Heimdall saw Loki grow ever more bitter and resentful of his ‘perfect’ older brother. Like Heimdall, he saw his brother’s uncontrollable temper and boastful arrogance, and knew that the title of King would fit him ill.

Heimdall wasn’t really surprised when the coronation was interrupted by marauding Jotunn. He’d known that Loki would find some way to make his disapproval known. But the fact that it was Jotunn creating the disruption… that was an ill omen, he thought.

When Thor turned up to the Bifrost chamber with his friends in tow, Loki with them, demanding that Heimdall open the Bifrost and send them to Jotunheim, Heimdall hesitated.

He should have said _no_ , the moment Thor made his demand. _No one_ was to traverse the Bifrost without the King’s expressed permission – Heimdall knew that better than anyone. Even the Crown Prince could not override that order.

And yet… it might do Thor a little good to see himself outmatched by the ‘weak’ Jotunn – teach him a little humility, a little forethought. As for Loki…

Heimdall thought that it was time that Loki knew the truth, but he had sworn to his King that he would say nothing on the topic. If this was the only way for Loki to discover the truth by venturing into that land of ice and snow, then so be it.

Heimdall let them through, watched them land on Jotunheim, saw the Frost Giants respond angrily to the sight of Asgardians seeking battle, and then took off running.

He reached the throne room in record time.

“My King,” he said, “Your sons and their friends are in trouble.”

Odin’s eye fixed upon him.

“Prince Thor has led them to Jotunheim –” was as far as Heimdall got before Odin roared, “ _What?_ ”

Odin stood from his throne, and moved for Gungnir in a hurry. Heimdall accompanied him as he strode from the throne room, heading for the Bifrost.

“As Crown Prince, Prince Thor commanded me to open the Bifrost,” said Heimdall quickly, even as they left the main hall of the palace and stepped out through the great golden gates, onto the rainbow bridge. “He assured me that you had given him permission.”

“Which you knew he did not have!” Odin snarled, increasing the speed of his stride. “We shall speak of this later, Heimdall! Open the Bifrost!”

Heimdall didn’t hesitate. Before his eyes he could see the small group of young warriors being surrounded by angry Jotunn, outnumbered and outmatched. He activated the Bifrost, and Odin went through it without another word.

* * *

The fallout from the young warriors’ visit to Jotunheim was spectacular. 

Thor was banished from Asgard altogether, sent to Midgard to learn humility, and Loki was left pale and silent in the wake of all that had happened. Heimdall knew that the young prince had discovered the truth of his nature while on Jotunheim – his Asgardian form had failed under the touch of a fellow Jotunn, revealing the same blue skin as the Frost Giants. Loki had confronted Odin in a scene that had left both of them shattered, although Heimdall’s sympathies were more for Loki than his King. As far as he was concerned, Odin was merely reaping what he had sown. He was only sorry that Loki was suffering for it.

Heimdall stood alone, on guard in the Bifrost chamber, when a voice spoke.

“Did you know?”

Heimdall stared into the distance as the young prince approached.

“You must have known,” said Loki, without waiting for an answer. “Why not tell me?”

“I cannot disobey the commands of my King,” said Heimdall. “To do so is to court death.”

Loki gave a bitter laugh, and Heimdall finally looked at him. Loki appeared pale and shaken still, a tragic twist to the curve of his mouth. 

“All this time, I thought that I was merely different,” said Loki. “Instead, I discover that I am a monster.”

“The Jotunn are not monsters,” Heimdall spoke up. Loki looked at him, patently disbelieving. “They were allies of Asgard once, before the wars began. According to our history, the greatest of the Frost Giant sorcerers worked with the most skilled of Asgard’s architects and builders to create the city which sits at the heart of our realm.”

Loki went still. 

“I have never heard such history.”

“That does not surprise me.” Heimdall looked at him. “The wars with Jotunheim began when I was a child, and the long intertwining of history between the two realms has become a taboo subject, as hatred and unreasoning bigotry has poisoned our view of our nearest neighbours. I suspect that no one ever told you that Asgard’s most beautiful Queen, Bestla, the mother of our current King and a powerful enchantress in her own right, was part-Jotunn.”

Loki outright _gaped_ at that information.

“…I was not aware,” he finally said. He was listening properly now, soaking in Heimdall’s words; still hurting, but with a faint aura of hope. Heimdall chose his words with care.

“Few these days are,” said Heimdall. “But Jotunheim and its people were once considered the second jewel of the Nine Realms, equal to Asgard. If they are considered otherwise now, it is only because many long, bloody battles have divested them of their greatness. But make no mistake: they were once as well thought of in Asgard as the Vanir or the elves of Alfheim.”

“You spoke before of Frost Giant sorcerers,” said Loki, after a moment. Heimdall inclined his head.

“It is said that of all the realms, Jotumheim was ever the home of the most powerful sorcerers. You have magic in your very blood, and it runs strong in you. I suspect that it is why our King took you from Jotunheim in the first place.”

Loki saw his point immediately.

“Because a powerful young sorcerer could shift the balance of power between Jotunheim and Asgard,” Loki said, his voice trembling, although he tried to hide it. “And he is not _our King_ , is he? Only _yours_. I am no more Asgardian than the Frost Giants I faced down a day ago.”

Heimdall stayed silent.

“Is it true that he found me abandoned as an infant?” Loki asked. “Or was that a lie, as well?”

“I do not know,” said Heimdall. “I only know that he returned from battle while I stood guard over the Bifrost, with a Jotunn child swaddled in his cloak. Only Odin knows the truth of how you came to be in his hands. If I knew the truth, I would tell you.”

“ _Why?_ ” asked Loki, and this time he didn’t try to hide the pain in his voice. “I am the enemy, Heimdall. The enemy hidden inside Asgard, all this time. Why show me kindness? You could have lured me away and slit my throat at any time, and no one would have been the wiser.”

“Because you were a child,” said Heimdall, “and because you were lonely. And so was I. Whatever half-truths I told myself about my motivations over the years, in the end, that is the truth. I have never had a wife or family of my own, but you…” he faltered for the first time, trying to put his feelings into words. “At first it was only that I saw the way the rest of Asgard treated you, and thought it unfair, but as you began visiting more and more often, I became… attached.”

“Attached.” Loki repeated the word as though it was unfamiliar to him. He shook his head. “My whole life has been a lie – I thought I was able to tell the truth from a falsehood, but it seems that even the Liesmith may be deluded, when the lie is appealing enough. How do I know that this is not all merely more lies, designed to manipulate me further?”

“Loki,” said Heimdall, forsaking the title of ‘prince,’ just this once. He saw Loki start a little. “When have I ever given you cause to believe, through word or action, that I did not mean everything I said?”

Loki fell silent.

“I would leave Asgard,” the prince said finally. “I have never been able to conform to what Asgard wants me to be, and that now I finally know why, I cannot stay here. How often do you hear Asgardian warriors slander the Jotunn within these halls? To know that I am one of them, and that the truth may come out at any time – I cannot bear it.”

“Where would you go?” Heimdall asked softly.

“To Midgard, I suppose,” Loki said, with a shrug. “One does not need noble connections to succeed there, and there are so many mortals that one more face amongst the crowd will not be noticed.”

“Two more faces,” said Heimdall. Loki blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“Two,” said Heimdall, his voice grave. “I would go with you.”

Loki opened his mouth, then shut it, as though for once he didn’t know what to say. 

He opened his mouth again.

“That is unnecessary. I am fully capable of looking after myself.”

“I know,” said Heimdall. “You have grown into a young man any reasonable father would be proud of,” he said, and saw Loki’s eyes sharpen at the subtle dig at Odin. “It is not for your sake that I would come with you.”

Loki stared at him.

“You are that… ‘attached’ to me?” Loki asked incredulously. “So much that you would forsake the honour and good standing that you have as Odin’s most trusted warrior, the guardian of the Bifrost?”

Heimdall’s answer was simple.

“Yes.”

Loki continued to stare at him, but there was a brittle, vulnerable look in the young man’s eyes.

“You and Mother,” Loki said. “You are the only ones who ever saw me for myself. Perhaps it is selfish of me, but if you are determined to accompany me, then I shall not be the fool who turns you away.”

“We shall need sustenance and water for the journey, until we find our feet in Midgard,” Heimdall began, but Loki, with a shadow of his usual grin, pulled out a covered basket that should have been far too big for his pockets.

“You magicked your pockets to be bigger than they should be,” Heimdall realised, before focusing on the real issue. “You came prepared?”

“I thought to talk you into letting me leave without notifying anyone until after I was gone,” Loki admitted. “Knowing that I shall be leaving in your company is a far more satisfying prospect, however.”

“Then we should go,” said Heimdall, “before your father comes looking for you.”

“He will not.” Loki said soberly. “He has entered the Odinsleep. Mother would have made me King in his stead, but I refused. She knows what I intend to do, I think. What I said to her was too close to a goodbye. And Odin is not my father,” Loki added, with finality. “Is there anything you wish to bring with you?”

Heimdall thought of his mother’s wedding chest, his father’s favourite sword, both still in his quarters at the centre of the city, and shook his head. He would carry the memory of his parents with him no matter where he went, whether he had their keepsakes or not. And kin – whether it was blood-kin, or the kind you chose for yourself – was more important than objects, no matter what they signified.

“I would not take the risk of someone noticing our departure,” said Heimdall. “There is nothing that I cannot leave behind.”

“Well, in that case…” Loki was smiling the shadow of his usual smile again, but it looked genuine, at least. “Heimdall, open the Bifrost.”

And Heimdall did. 

 

 

 

 


End file.
